Flopping Fitness

I monitored my hound dog Lad;
(dog’s fitness tracking is a brand new fad.)
His resting heartbeat and his sleep,
the exercise he needs.
The canine stress in canine norm--
essential doggie deeds.

I bought the monitor at Sears;
I placed it ‘round his neck beneath his ears.
And then I waited for my Lad
to move for tracking sake.
But there was nothing to record
since Lad was not awake.

As if he had no energy at all;
(that tracking gadget hale in dog install.)
My eye on the computer--not a sign;
hound dog--activity--they don’t align.

I pulled a soup bone from icebox;
(one lazy hound dog for me to outfox.)
I held the bone above Lad’s nose
to counteract his flop.
The smell of meat hung in the air
much like a butcher shop.

I checked again for signs of life,
yet inactivity on screen was rife.
Then slowly Lad unlatched an eye
and with a look to slay,
conveyed contempt and hound ennui--
such was his dogged way.

As if his energy was all but nil;
(his look told me that hound dog had his fill.)
A bit recorded ere my Lad was through;
for basic flopping fitness, it must do.


32 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
11-3-14